


Wakefulness

by Morpheus626



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elves sleep with their eyes open--a fact anyone who has spent enough time around them is aware of. This can make it rather difficult to determine, however, if an elf is truly asleep, or merely sitting quietly and thinking.  Thranduil, as a king, earns these moments of solitude without question. As such, there have been occasions where sensitive information is overheard by him without his intending it.<br/>Or, "Legolas and Tauriel really need to learn not to have all of their conversations in the doorway of the throne room."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wakefulness

**Author's Note:**

> Tried my hand at a happier fic! Don't think I quite nailed it like I'd been expecting, but it isn't as sad as my previous fics, so there's that (though the ending of this may hint at sadder things to come...) If you'd like to let me know what you think of this latest attempt, or just want to talk about elves and Middle-earth; you can comment here or contact me at my tumblr: www.itsalwaysprettiestafterthefall.tumblr.com
> 
> As always, these characters do not belong to me; Tolkien owns Thranduil and Legolas (and all of Middle-earth), and Peter Jackson owns the movie interpretations of the king and prince along with Tauriel. I'm merely borrowing them for a bit of fun :)

“You go wake him.” 

“I’m not waking him, you go!” 

“You—ugh.” Tauriel glared at Legolas, who had an annoyingly bemused smirk on his lips. “One of us has to wake him—he’s asked for reports every other hour. As much as we dislike this task Legolas, we must—“ 

Legolas laughed. “I must do nothing. You, on the other hand, are the Captain of the Guard. It is your responsibility to make sure reports reach my father in a timely manner, not mine.” 

Tauriel rolled her eyes. “Is it not your responsibility as his son to help oversee the kingdom? And would that not include the guards and myself?” Legolas’ face became a mask of concern at that. 

“You hadn’t thought of that, had you? Now, I am going back to train with the rest of the Guard. You will go and report to your father. It is as simple as that.” Tauriel started to walk towards the main hall, but Legolas grabbed for her before she could take another step. 

“Tauriel, I will not beg—“ 

She smirked at that. 

“I will not beg, but I will ask that you make the report instead. Please.” Legolas’ bright blue eyes searched hers, and she saw that there was something troubling him—something that warranted the avoidance of Thranduil. She did not want to report any more than he did, and she was not certain she would let him have his way and pass the work to her. But she would hear his tale first, if only for the entertainment. 

“What did you do? Or what did you forget to do that he asked? Or maybe you—“ 

Legolas sighed and waved away her questions. “I merely…I may have…do you recall a particular bow he had made for me recently?” 

Tauriel rolled her eyes again (a common and seemingly unavoidable action when dealing with Thranduil or Legolas). “Yes, I do. You spent all of the last week telling me about it and how much you like it. I’ve not forgotten. What of it?” 

“I may have broken it already.” Legolas looked painfully distressed. 

“Already? How in this world did you manage that? I thought they had it made a bit stronger than your previous bow.” Tauriel could see now why Legolas was so bothered. Thranduil was extremely careful when it came to crafting or ordering in new weapons; Tauriel called him stingy for it, but Legolas had admitted to her how his father worried over the coffers despite their being in a relatively decent state. It was no wonder now that Legolas had insisted on borrowing a bow from the armory for the day; he was now without any weapon of his own save his knives and arrows. 

"I used it to knock out a spider, and it appears I may have used more force than was required." Legolas was utterly miserable. She could understand his fear and frustration, but she wasn't going to baby him and let him avoid the situation. 

“Well, you can’t avoid him for much longer. Besides, he’ll notice at some point that you aren’t carrying it with you—and with your luck he’ll feel offended and think that his design wasn’t good enough for you. Would you really rather wait to tell him until that happens?” Tauriel did her best to sound sympathetic, but at the same time tried to be convincing and tough—Legolas would regret it if he didn’t come clean now, and she didn’t want to see or even hear of that. 

Legolas was silent, his eyes to the ground as he pondered her words. “Perhaps I will take care of the report then. As you said, it would be better to tell him now…but perhaps, if I wait until dinner…” 

Tauriel groaned in exasperation. 

* * *

In the throne room, Thranduil lounged. He had spent the entire day hiding from nearly everyone, who all seemed to want his attention and help all at once. First the cooks, then the weapon smiths, and then the rest of the kingdom it had seemed. The throne room was the one place he could truly hide away, as anyone who entered into it would have to formally announce themselves and their requests (or at least, they were supposed to.) No one seemed to want to go to that trouble, and so he had sat, rather bored but thankful for the peace. 

The only issues were that his throne actually became rather uncomfortable after a few hours, and it was nearly impossible to nap in—he’d attempted to a few times over the course of the day, but had not managed so yet. He had given up, and was sat upright with his eyes open and straight forward. To anyone not looking closely, it might seem that he was asleep. 

This was the assumption both Legolas and Tauriel had made, which had clearly made them feel safe enough to speak (quite loudly) in the doorway to the throne room. Thranduil had heard every word of their conversation, and was desperately hard not to move and give away his wakefulness. It was intriguing and rather nice to hear his son and his captain speak so freely so near to him; to hear statements given blatantly and honestly. As a king it was not often that others spoke in such a way to him, and this was acceptable when it came to most people. But for two people he was so close to—to know that this is what they hid away when they spoke to him was a bit depressing. And to know that Legolas feared coming to him with such news was a painful fact to learn. 

Thranduil decided to give the conversation another minute or two. Hopefully the two would leave after that, or one of them would come in to report and would allow him to “wake” without alerting them of his accidental eavesdropping. 

* * *

“Legolas just go! We’ve a good report to give him anyways—the number of spiders killed today would be impressive to anyone, and he’ll be thrilled to hear it. Tell him that first, then mention the bow. You are not a child but an adult, and I know you can speak to your father as one.” Tauriel was beyond exasperated now. She loved the king and his son as though they were family, but they could be incredibly tiring and wearing on a person. Legolas certainly did not mean to be irritating, but she did not know what else to tell him. One thing was certain if nothing else was: she would make Legolas do the report, and he would have to mention the bow then. She could not and would not allow him to waste an opportunity to get the bad news over with. 

Legolas bowed his head and nodded nervously. “You are right—though I don’t like admitting it. Thank you for your help Tauriel—and your stubbornness.” He raised his head and smiled. 

Tauriel reached out to clasp his shoulder—but jumped back as Thranduil ducked out of the throne room doorway. 

“I hate to interrupt—but I do have to go see that dinner is attended to, and I can’t wait any longer; I am sorry.” Thranduil stood a bit awkwardly in front of them; he really hadn’t wanted to reveal his eavesdropping, but if he’d forgotten the need to see to the cooks and their concerns regarding the pantries, and it would be better if he did so before dinner. This fact did not change the looks of surprise and discomfort worn by Legolas and Tauriel. 

A moment passed in silence. Then another. Tauriel looked to the ceiling; Legolas to the floor, and Thranduil to the nearest wall, all three hoping the situation would resolve itself without any action. 

Finally, Legolas sighed. “You’ve heard everything then; the good and the bad. I apologize for the bow, and perhaps this would be the time for me to learn to craft myself—“ Thranduil placed a hand on Legolas’ shoulder. “You should learn to craft your own weapons, but you will not be making any you can use so soon. I will have another made for you, stronger this time.” 

He let his hand fall from Legolas’ shoulder and turned to Tauriel. “The information I overheard is report enough; go prepare yourself for dinner and don’t worry about the rest of the Guard. I think we can trust them to have properly written up their own accounts for the day.” 

Tauriel nodded, and sighed in relief as she walked away. Between the fighting and helping Legolas she found herself rather tired, and a meal and sleep sounded better than anything. She felt rather uncomfortable knowing that the king had heard everything, but she supposed there was worse that could have occurred. At any rate, he did not seem angry with either of them and she felt he would likely not mention anything tomorrow. 

Legolas, now alone with his father and feeling rather embarrassed, turned to leave. 

“I did not dismiss you Legolas.” 

He stopped dead in his tracks. His father was only ever so formal before a lecture, and Legolas wanted to avoid such a fate if he could—but of course he couldn’t. 

“Legolas, I feel I should apologize.” Thranduil’s voice was quiet, nearly a whisper if anything. 

Legolas turned to his father. “Apologize for what? I was the one—“ 

“You were the one who would rather avoid me and hide small mistakes from me, rather than coming forward with them. You’ve been that way since you were young, but it is only now I see that this is not how things should be.” 

Legolas was flabbergasted. “You are my king. There is nothing wrong with being angry at me for such mistakes. I am like any other in this kingdom.” 

Thranduil’s heart broke at that. “I am your king, but I am also your father. And you forget, you are a prince—you are not like any other amongst our people. You are also my son, and that is the thing I would hate most for you to forget. You need not hide mistakes from me, nor avoid me for any reason. I will not cease to love you for any mistake or misdeed—we have only one another, and you are precious to me.” 

Thranduil’s voice wavered. He hadn’t intended on being so open with his feelings—but it was the truth. Legolas was all he had left for family, and all he had left of his wife. He was incredibly grateful and happy for Legolas’ life, and would die to protect his son. He had always tried to be sure that Legolas understood that he was loved, but it seemed he had not done enough towards that matter. He would need to remedy that. 

Legolas found himself near tears. His father was upset, yes, but not for the reason he had anticipated, and this new reason hurt far worse. “I’m sorry Ada. I did not think of things like that. I did not want to upset you.” 

Thranduil wrapped his arms around Legolas. By now a courtier or two had most likely wandered down this way and was watching them, but he cared not. His son needed him. “You’ve not made me upset or angry. I’ve made myself angry, at only myself. You have done nothing wrong.” 

Legolas hugged back him back, which was a pleasant surprise. His son had strayed away from such displays as he grew older, but now it was as if he was an elfling again—happy to hold and be held by his father. 

After another moment Thranduil released his son. They both had tears streaming down their faces. “Now, I’ve cooks to ask after. If you’d like to come with, I would appreciate the company.” 

Legolas wiped at his eyes, and nodded happily. They strode down the corridor together, both aware of an odd, but welcome change between them. In the coming days, such love would be nearly all they would have to rely on.


End file.
